The Gamemakers (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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thecapitol2014-04-14 01:46 am
gamemakers) wrote in thecapitol2014-04-14 01:46 am
Entry tags:
- sigma klim,
- terezi pyrope,
- the grand highblood,
- wyatt earp,
- ✘ brainiac 5,
- ✘ carlos the scientist,
- ✘ courfeyrac,
- ✘ felicity worthington,
- ✘ guy crood,
- ✘ ian chesterton,
- ✘ jessica wakefield,
- ✘ joel,
- ✘ kankri vantas,
- ✘ lyle norg,
- ✘ marius pontmercy,
- ✘ maximus,
- ✘ nasir,
- ✘ shion,
- ✘ stephen reagan,
- ✘ topher brink
Thicker Than Blood Start
For Tributes with keen eyes, they'll notice that Peacekeeper presence seems increased and yet infinitely more ineffective in the last few weeks. Peacekeepers seem harried, as do the Stylists, and most of the Escorts titter and plot without alerting the Tributes as to what, exactly, is so exciting. They simply say that this weekend they'll know.
And so it happens that on the weekend in question, the Tributes are woken by their Escorts early and brought to a restaurant for a hearty breakfast. The restaurant is nothing spectacular, although they seem to be trying to make an impression on the television cameras that float around. The sleepy, cranky meal goes by and then the Tributes are led back to their Suites for a mandatory meeting.
Sitting on couches and the floor, in chairs and on windowsills, standing off to the side - people from the Tributes' homes are waiting to greet them in each District Suite. Some are confused, some accepting, some frightened and some elated to see their beloved. Either way, it should be an eventful reunion.
And so it happens that on the weekend in question, the Tributes are woken by their Escorts early and brought to a restaurant for a hearty breakfast. The restaurant is nothing spectacular, although they seem to be trying to make an impression on the television cameras that float around. The sleepy, cranky meal goes by and then the Tributes are led back to their Suites for a mandatory meeting.
Sitting on couches and the floor, in chairs and on windowsills, standing off to the side - people from the Tributes' homes are waiting to greet them in each District Suite. Some are confused, some accepting, some frightened and some elated to see their beloved. Either way, it should be an eventful reunion.
no subject
I am him wasn't right, because it wasn't true. Because he wasn't her son. Not her son. He hesitated.
"...I am-- Cecil Palmer," he said, slowly. "Or, at least, Cecil Palmer is my name. I-- I am not sure who Cecil Palmer is, in the way you understand him. But I am Cecil Palmer in the way that I understand him."
He swallowed hard; breathed; continued. "And-- and you are, perhaps, not my mother in the way that I understand her-- that I understood her--" The correction sat heavy on his tongue. "But-- but the resemblance is--"
He couldn't keep his voice steady, and so he let the sentence break off, to be lost in a soft, shuddering breath in.
no subject
"See, then? A fine looking man, with a fine sounding voice."
She had a feeling that she would not have time to learn all the differences between the two, but wouldn't it be interesting is she could? How often did you get to see your son, from two worlds?
no subject
He allowed himself to do this only for a moment; one moment out of twenty lonely years, and it still felt like too long an indulgence to be safe. Reaching up to take her wrist gently, to pull her hand from his face, to open his eyes and look at her, felt like pulling out a piece of his heart.
"I hope," he said, "That the Cecil you know is-- happy, and healthy, and successful." I hope he is a fine-looking man, with a fine-sounding voice. "I hope that he understands how fortunate he is, to be who he is. I hope that, even lacking the basis for comparison that I, for better or for worse, have been afforded, he is... grateful. "
It was spoken with the finality of a parting, but he had not yet let go of her hand.